14
The mood was dark at Workington Hall, the disappearance of Amelia having cast a shadow over the house, her light and joy replaced by a sad melancholy, felt most acutely by her sister and father who sat silently together before the fire.
“The fiend, I shall have his head upon a pole. I shall have his lands taken from him, and his body torn asunder. I shall see to it that Feargan Galbreth knows the wrath of every Jacobean,” Lord Torbay cried, as he stormed into the room later that day.
“Come now, Philip, we do not know the facts,” the Earl replied, struggling to sit up, as Catherine sat weeping by the fire.
“The facts, sir, are very clear. I have received information that it is Feargan Galbreth who orchestrated the entire thing. It is he who is responsible for Amelia’s disappearance and he who will pay a heavy price for such wickedness,” Philip cried, bringing his hand down hard upon the table and causing Catherine to jump.
“I was with him the whole time. It could not possibly have been Feargan,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “He had stopped to help me, the horse was lame, and Amelia was up in front. That was when we heard her cry.”
“Do not be so stupid, Catherine,” Philip said, turning on her. “It was not Feargan who kidnapped her, but he has surely paid someone else to do so. All his pretense of looking for her, gathering together men of this house to set out on a futile search, and then he plays the innocent man. I should have forced him back to the hall but no, he remained there in the woods and it was a simple matter then of going to the place he had her kept and spiriting her away. She is on the way to Scotland as we speak, they were spotted on the road from Cockermouth, or so my sources say.”
“How can you be so sure?” the Earl said, a grave look upon his face.
“Am I surrounded by stupidity?” Philip cried, “Can you not see what has happened, are you blinded to this man’s wickedness? He has ingratiated himself with you, wormed his way into this household, and all for the purpose of kidnap and extortion. You shall receive a ransom demand, of that I am certain.”
“The man is a spy and he has Amelia in his power, and now he has not only valuable information about our cause but also my betrothed. You had no business in inviting him here and much less business in entertaining him so lavishly. It is fortunate he did not carry you both off, Catherine, or simply slit your throat.”
At this Catherine burst into tears again and the Earl stared silently ahead, shaking his head.
“I will not rest until that man is hanged for this,” Philip said, and he stormed from the room, leaving Catherine and her father alone.
“Feargan is innocent, Father, I was with him the whole time. He has nothing but affection for Amelia, you must believe me. He is kind and gentle, the fear in his face at Amelia’s loss was sincere,” Catherine said, kneeling by her father’s chair and placing her hands in his.
“But Amelia is still missing, Catherine, and if these reports are true than she is with Feargan and that means it can only be he that has so treated her,” the Earl said, as if not wishing to believe his own words.
“But perhaps she is with him of her own volition, Father. Perhaps he found her, perhaps it was too dangerous to return,” Catherine said, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“And perhaps we were all too ready to believe in the genuine sincerity of Galbreth of Beira. He is no friend of the Jacobean cause, despite professing to the contrary. He may believe that if he cannot persuade Charles Edward Stuart to halt his invasion by words then he shall attempt to do so by deed. Amelia’s kidnapping is a grave blow to us all and Feargan could well hold us to ransom for her. I am afraid I am inclined to agree with Philip,” the Earl replied, shaking his head.
Catherine sat back dejectedly. She missed her sister dearly, yet she could not bring herself to believe that her own judgement of character had been so lacking as to be taken in so convincingly. Feargan had been so charming, so kind and considerate. He had not even wished to take the route through the forest on which Amelia had met her dreadful fate, and she could not believe he had found the time to orchestrate such a plot and make such wicked plans. But she wondered why her sister would so readily leave for Scotland without at least waiting to speak with her. It was quite unlike Amelia to do so, and surely if she had gone of her own free will with Feargan, then she would have confided in her sister first.
It was with a heavy heart that Catherine was forced to admit she simply did not know if the charming man she had so taken to in France could be responsible for such a crime. That night, as Philip continued to breathe threats against Feargan, she listened as plans were made for Amelia’s safe return.
Spies would be sent ahead, and it would be discovered where the Earl’s daughter was being held. A rider was dispatched to make all haste to Loch Beira and return with news of Amelia’s arrival. Until then, all that could be done was for Catherine and her father to wait, fearful for Amelia’s safety and at the mercy of Lord Torbay’s whims.
Catherine caught Philip on the stairs later. She had always had a sense of nervousness towards her would-be brother-in-law. He always seemed so aloof, almost cruel, but at times she could catch a genuine glimmer of his humanity. His concern for Amelia, at least, seemed genuine and Catherine wanted to know more of what he thought had happened.
“She will be all right, won’t she, Philip?” Catherine said, as she stood next to Lord Torbay, who was looking out across the dark plains towards Solway and the sea.
“She is resourceful enough, but that Feargan was nothing but bad news from his first showing. I cannot allow your sister to be treated in such a way,” Philip replied, turning to her.
“You do love her, don’t you?” Catherine asked.
“I care for you all,” Philip replied, and with that he turned on his heels and clattered up the stairs towards bed, leaving Catherine quite puzzled behind him.
* * *
“We shall make Carlisle before nightfall if we ride at a good pace,” Feargan said, as they took to the road north out of Cockermouth.
The town had been quiet that afternoon but Feargan had looked nervously around him, lest they meet the kidnappers on the road. He fancied he saw the taller of the three emerging from an inn, but the man would not have recognized him and with Amelia wrapped in Feargan’s cloak, she too was unrecognizable from a distance.
As they turned onto the road towards the border a man in a green tunic nodded to them as they passed, fixing Feargan with a hard stare.
“Dae ye want somethin’ lad?” Feargan asked.
“No, it is just unusual for a horse and rider to be going north so late in the day. Have you business in Wigton? It is market day there tomorrow, is it not?” the man replied, glancing at Amelia.
“My business is me own, ye hear me. It seems that folks around here are far too interested in what others are doing. Concern yerself with yer own affairs,” Feargan replied, as he urged on his horse.
Feargan could feel the man watching them as they rode away and he was glad to have rounded a turn in the road, leaving the town behind.
“We need to be careful, lass. Who kens what fiendish schemes yer betrothed has planned and nay doubt he has spies all over the place. I’ll warrant that man is rushing to Workington Hall even as we speak,” Feargan said.
But Amelia was too exhausted to reply, and she simply clung to Feargan as they rode north along the road. It was a lonely path at the best of times, winding its way over the northern fells of Cumberland, across moorland and vast tracts of farmland where animals grazed, and the occasional farmhouse rose up on the horizon.
Feargan had paid little attention to it upon his approach just a few days before. He had been too preoccupied with the thought of seeing Amelia but now the road felt menacing and he regularly cast furtive glances behind him, expecting a great horde of pursuers to come chasing after them, or the sight of Lord Torbay tearing desperately along behind.
But they met no one on the road as they came in sight of Carli
sle cathedral. The skies were growing darker, with low rumbles of thunder crossing the Solway Plain to their left.
“Ye will be safe in the inn tonight, lass,” Feargan said, reining in the horse and turning himself in the saddle.
Amelia opened her eyes and smiled at him.
“Thank you,” she said, resting her head upon his shoulder. “You have been ever so kind. I can’t thank you enough, Feargan. I was terrified what those men were going to do to me.”
“It was not the men ye should have feared, it was the fiend ye believe loves ye,” Feargan said, and urging on the horse they rode into the city which just a few days before Feargan had left with such expectant joy in his heart.
* * *
The innkeeper asked only the most necessary of questions as the Laird secured a room for the night. Such travelers were common on the road across the border and the man had learned that it was best to allow his guests to keep themselves to themselves.
“Your name, sir,” he asked, eyeing the woman wrapped in a travelling cloak who stood nervously next to his guest.
“McBryde, Daniel,” Feargan replied, “and this is my wife, Catherine. We require the room for only a night and I also require a new cloak, mine was… er… mine was torn in brambles when I took a tumble earlier today, cut to shreds. Have one sent up to the room, will ye?”
“Certainly sir,” the inn keeper said. “And perhaps a little light supper for you and your… wife.”
“Aye, some bread and victuals, whatever ye have will be acceptable,” Feargan replied.
“Very good, sir,” the innkeeper said, and he took them up to a room overlooking a yard at the back of the inn, bidding them a goodnight and informing Feargan that his supper would be sent up shortly.
As soon as the door closed, Feargan helped Amelia to the bed and she lay down, her eyes closed and her hand to her brow. It was only a matter of moments before she was asleep and even the arrival of their meagre supper and Feargan’s new travelling cloak did not awaken her.
Feargan tore the loaf of bread in half and cut several slices of cheese. Laying them to one side for her to eat later, he ate hungrily of his own fare. The room was modest but furnished comfortable enough and he sat in a chair by the fire, a candle burning in the window casting its light into the room.
As he ate, he pondered on just what had transpired that day. Why did Lord Torbay wish to kidnap his own betrothed? He already had her in an iron grip, one that it was clear she wished to be rid of. Why go to such lengths and such danger in order to secure Amelia for himself? Feargan could not understand and he found his own eyes closing. Knocking off his boots and sitting back in the chair, sleep came over him.
He awoke to the sound of a commotion in the yard below. It was the middle of the night. The candle burned low and the embers of the fire cast just a little light across the room. Crossing to the window he looked down and could see the innkeeper in conversation with two men in the stable yard below.
Carefully, he opened the window just a crack, the voices of the men carrying through the still air of the night.
“Travelling with a girl, you say? Well, we often have such people passing through, this is a busy inn on a busy road, the last hospitable city before Edinburgh. They could be anywhere. I have no Galbreth staying here,” the innkeeper said.
These words caused Feargan’s blood to run cold and he shrank back from the window.
“If you hear anything then be sure to inform the Lord Lieutenant at the castle. There will be a reward for her safe return. As I understand it, her father is a very rich man and keen, of course, for his daughter to be returned. You are certain you have not seen such a man?” The voice came from below, as Feargan strained his ears to listen.
“Well, there was one man and a young woman, wrapped in a cloak, they took a room for the night but he was unkempt and she looked a terrible mess, hardly the sort to call themselves a Laird and a Lady. And I have others here, too, other couples who could match your description. You are looking for a needle in a haystack, my friends. And besides, surely they would not stay here but rather make for the border,” the innkeeper replied.
“The roads will be watched. They’ll not get far. Well, thank you for your assistance, good night to you,” a second voice said.
Feargan breathed a sigh of relief and chancing a glance through the window he saw the two men leaving through the stable yard gates. The innkeeper had returned inside and Feargan watched the two as they approached an inn a little further down the road. It was clear that he and Amelia were being hunted. He pulled the curtains across the window, then crossed to the door and bolted it, turning the key in the lock and drew his sword, lest unwanted company should come amongst them in the night.
He settled himself in the chair by the fire, casting a glance over to Amelia, who continued to sleep soundly. He had no wish to alarm her by waking her, but he knew that they must leave as soon as possible in the morning if they were to have any chance of making it across the border. Once in Scotland, Feargan would take the low roads and travel by less direct paths than the main road to Edinburgh along which he had come.
Despite attempting to stay awake, he once more found his eyelids closing and his head drooping in the chair. Sleep came upon him, broken by dreams of Philip and those wicked kidnappers, and it was not until the morning light was streaming through the ill-fitting curtains that he awoke. Stretching out in the chair, Amelia also rolled over on the bed.
“How… how long have I slept?” she asked, sitting up and yawning.
“At least ten hours, lass. There is some food for ye there on the plate. Ye will need to eat something for the road ahead,” Feargan replied, passing her the plate of bread and cheese.
“I was exhausted—they gave me some sort of foul-smelling sedative, but it made me hallucinate and if I am honest, the whole day yesterday seemed to pass as in a daze. I was not even sure where we were when we arrived here in the dark,” she replied, eating hungrily.
“Carlisle, but we must leave as soon as possible—already there are people searching for us. Philip must have his spies everywhere and I daenae wish to be caught as we make our way north. Ye will be safe with me at Loch Beira, my clan is loyal, and they shall see to it that ye are well looked after,” Feargan replied, glancing anxiously out of the window, lest last night’s visitors should be waiting for them.
But the stable yard was quiet and as they prepared to depart Feargan prayed silently that they would be delivered from their difficulties and arrive safely home. He longed for his hearth and the wise counsel of his Godfather, who Feargan knew would have much to say when he arrived so unexpectedly and with a visitor in tow.
15
The road out of the city was unguarded, or so it seemed, and Feargan and Amelia trotted on their horse behind a cart laden with goods. The night watchman was just concluding his duties and he waved them past, no doubt believing them to be of one party.
As soon as they were clear of the city gates Feargan wasted no time and rode swiftly past the cart and on into the countryside beyond. He took a route which passed through several outlying hamlets and farmsteads, being sure to check regularly behind him for any unwelcome company.
Despite the words of the two men in the stable yard, they met few people on the road. The borders were still a lonely place, one which could claim to be neither English nor Scottish. It was a place where folk largely kept themselves to themselves and were used to the sight of travelers passing through. Few folks stopped and even fewer made their business known.
Feargan and Amelia travelled swiftly. They paused for lunch by a little brook, the landlord of the inn having provided them with a meagre lunch of bread and cheese. Feargan reined in the horse and Amelia got down to stretch her legs, looking around her. The Scottish lowlands rose ahead, behind them the English border country lay.
“My father will be dreadfully worried, as will Catherine,” she said, sounding sorrowful, as she stooped to scoop up water into her cupped hand
s.
“Sadly, that is a fact we cannae dae anythin’ about at this moment,” Feargan replied, glancing back down the road.
They were close to a little whitewashed kirk, its graveyard stretching across to meadows beyond, where the lowlands of the border country rose gently up, and the road ran onwards into forests far away.
“I do not want to worry them but…” she began.
“I will write to yer faither and tell him of Philip’s treachery, and ye must write, too. Otherwise, they will think that I have spirited ye away for my own wicked ways,” Feargan said, shaking his head.
“I should not mind that so much,” she replied, smiling at him. “Thank you, Feargan, apart from Catherine and my father, you seem the only person in all the world I can trust now.”
Highlander's Hidden Destiny (Steamy Scottish Historical) Page 12